


contact

by djxrxn



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Self-Insert, Stargazing, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djxrxn/pseuds/djxrxn
Summary: Din and you are supposed to be stargazing, but it's hard for both of you to focus when you two are so close together.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 129





	contact

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first fic i wrote for din. nothing really to it, pretty soft and self indulgent (so the norm lol) - enjoy!

“And that…” You paused, racking your brain for the name of the planet. “Is Geonosis, I think?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up, glancing away from you for only a minute. The stars twinkled almost as bright as your eyes had when he agreed to accompany you to stargaze. 

The latest quarry had been handled and the Child slept soundly in its pod when you had approached Mando. He had almost made it up to the cockpit before you spoke up. He faced away from you as you fiddled with your fingers, eyes not even leaving the ground as you asked if he maybe, if not, that was totally fine, but maybe, if he wanted to, go look at the stars with you. 

He almost said no. The next bounty was across the galaxy - a bond-skipper hiding out in the underbellies of the Inner Rim. Other bounty hunters would want the high reward. Time was of the essence - not to mention the Crest would need more fuel and Maker knows that wasn’t going to be cheap. This bounty would insure the ability to collect more bounties, as well as medical supplies and food portions. 

But it was the way you asked him that made him pause before he made the final step up the ladder and into the cockpit. Normally, when you made requests, there was a sureness to your voice. Never a confidence, but you weren’t afraid to tell Mando that more meal rations were needed, or that the bacta-kits were close to their expiration date. You would clamber up behind him with your report. He would give a nod, and the Crest would be off. 

This request - there was a timidness, a _shyness_ to it. Whatever you wanted out of him - whatever the implications were of you asking him to spend this time with you was - he knew it was gentle and fragile. You would be disappointed if he said no. 

He had looked back at you. Your eyes finally looked into the visor and the Mandaloian felt his chest tighten. How was he supposed to say no to you when you looked that sweet. 

“Well, one of them is Geonosis, the other is Tatooine.” 

He said nothing, only waited for you to continue to speak. 

You usually didn’t speak this much around the Mandalorian. You had tried to speak only when spoken to way of communication, but when you realized that meant you would never speak, you decided that only speaking when absolutely necessary would have to be fine. 

Truth be told, you just didn’t want to annoy him. You wanted to talk to him - you _really_ wanted to talk to him. You wanted to tell him every single thought in your head. You had at least a hundred questions about space travel and how the Razor Crest operated and where the next quarry was and was he okay, was he hurt?

The last thing you wanted to do was be such a pain in the Mandalorian’s ass that he dumped you back on your backwater homeworld, never to be seen again.

Because you would miss the travel, obviously, and not just Mando. There were other things you liked about being his companion besides just him. You would miss seeing new planets and new people. You would miss the Child, the way it cooed and giggled up at you. And even though she wasn’t the most comfortable, you would miss the way the Razor Crest had become your home almost overnight. She was always just enough. 

Okay, maybe you would miss her pilot too. 

You took a step back, almost to admire the fact that you named almost every star in the sky. The Mandalorian was closer to you now as you stood shoulder to shoulder. You tried to focus on the stars again.

“What about that one?” His modulator crackled as he pointed out something you had overlooked. He wasn’t ready for you to spot talking. He wanted to memorize every syllable you uttered, to know your speech pattern like he knew his blasters or the control panel of the Crest. You were always so quiet around him. All he wanted was your voice to fill his ship. “Or two.”

He was right. You overlooked a distant binary star, its light barely visible to you. 

His hand dropped the same time as yours lifted up, and -

Contact.

You touched his hand. 

Your hand bumped into his, collided into his. He couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think as his arm went rigid. He felt his shoulders go stiff. 

You faltered for a second, pausing and glancing up at his helmet (you were looking at him like he put every star in the galaxy just for you, just so you could pretend to know the names of the stars so you could spend a moment alone with him, like you would give anything for a moment alone with him, look away, stop looking at her, she’s not looking at you like that, stop looking, she doesn’t _need_ you, _stop looking_ ). Then you looked back to the heavens. Pointed out the two stars and said their names. 

Mando didn’t hear you. 

His heartbeat rattled around in his head. It was louder than his hazy thoughts, louder than the hum of your voice. His face felt warm, and for once, he was glad he was wearing his helmet around you. His eyes were glued to you. He watched your lips move as you rambled about the sky. He wasn’t listening. He wanted to listen. 

He swallowed and tried to focus on what you were saying. A binary star, right. It’s actually a two-stared system, okay. In the Outer Rim, that’s why it’s so hard to see, sure. 

You cleared your throat. “So, y-yeah, that’s - that’s the star.”

You turned your attention back to him. “Stars,” you corrected, barely louder than a whisper. 

You hadn’t realized that his visor was so intensely focused in your direction. You tried to form a thought, or even the semblance of a sentence, but all you could think about was him. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you. 

“Y-ou know, uh,” you started, throwing your gaze directly back at the two distant stars, twinkling around each other, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. You tried to rack your brain for anything interesting. The sentence died in your throat. You had nothing - all you wanted to do was keep talking to him, keep saying _anything_ to him. This was a rarity, this moment alone with Mando, and you had _nothing_. 

You sputtered for a few seconds before you let silence settle around you in defeat.

The Mandalorian clenched his fist (the fist that touched you, bumped into you, made contact with you, he wants to touch you again) and didn’t bother to ask what you were going to say. It wouldn’t have mattered to him, anyways, not when he couldn’t even form a single fucking thought. 

He needed to breathe. It was an accident. It meant nothing. He should just forget about it, and move on (when was the last time anyone touched him). 

You cleared your throat, your breath visible in the cold air (when was the last time he touched her).

He knew instantly. 

Two days ago. You were climbing up into the cockpit to take care of the child. Halfway up, and your foot slipped off the rung.

You caught yourself immediately. But that didn’t stop the panic from spiking up in the Mandalorian. His palm flew to your lower back to steady you. He let out a soft, “Woah.” 

You both stopped moving, stopped breathing for a moment. 

He could feel your heartbeat under his hand, even from your back, as it started to race. He hoped that you couldn’t feel as his did the same. 

“Easy.” 

He pushed up ever so softly. He guided you up the ladder, his hand leaving your back when he couldn’t reach high enough anymore. 

It’s not that he avoided touching you. He just couldn’t justify it. There was never a way to touch you without it feeling clunky and awkward, out of place. 

Now though…

Now was probably as good of a moment you were ever going to get. The twin crescent moons in front of you climbed in the sky - the planet’s cycle moved faster than most. You were running out of time here. He shifted beside you - his movement stiff and awkward. You blinked, trying not to get upset. There was still time, there _had to_ be more time. 

But you _knew_. Mando needed to move onto the next quarry. You needed to act or…

You needed to move on. 

It was probably for the best that your moment with him was drawing to a close.Your little crush on the Mandalorian was getting out of hand. Every single thought you had revolved around him. You wanted so badly just to touch him, just to be as close to him as possible. He wasn’t a safe man. The closet of blasters, the chinks and chunks missing from the Crest as a result of firefights, everything about him attested to the fact that he was dangerous. Asking for him was asking for a lifetime of looking over your shoulder. 

But it was _Mando_. Any danger he got the three of you into - well, maybe less all three of you, and more himself, but he always came back in one piece to the Crest. And the two firefights you had endured with him resulted in the other party’s ship floating around space in bits. He kept the Child and you safe from the hazards of his occupation. You never felt safer than at his side in the co-pilot seat. 

It was when he left the Razor Crest that you felt vulnerable. 

The Child did have… abilities, but it was just that. A child. It was so small and helpless, and any large task completely exhausted the little thing.

What were you supposed to do if someone tried to board the Crest? What were you supposed to do if Mando didn’t come home?

You couldn’t think about it - you’d make yourself sick thinking about it - the second he closed the hatch and disappeared, you turned to the Child to occupy your time. 

And it did a great job at that - but even the Child needed rest eventually. That just left you alone to picture every way your Mandalorian could die. Alone to rot on some unnamed back alley or in a vast jungle, never to be found again. You would have no idea that he was gone.

Every time he came back, you considered telling him about how you felt. But the idea that he didn’t want you as much as you needed him? It would destroy you.

But here was an opportunity to tell him, to say _anything_ to him. To show him even a fraction of how much you wanted him _needed_ him. 

You let out a huff. It sounded shaky in your ears. You wondered if Mando heard it.

He did. He chalked it up to the weather (you were cold, you both needed to get inside the Crest and go, and you were cold, she’s cold, Maker, _do something_ ). 

And then you moved. 

You let your hand bump into Mando’s again. You almost pulled back, unsure of your movements at first, but you let the back of your hand rest up against his.

Contact.

You paused for a minute, waiting for him to react. He had gone completely still. 

The two of you were in limbo, waiting for the other to move first. You didn’t know what to do - or say - next. 

So you just looked at him. You searched the helmet for anything - you peered into his visor looking for any signs of a man underneath it.

There was one, and he was on fire.

Your movement was so sudden and small. You weren’t even really touching him (you _were_ , you _actually fucking were_ ). It barely called for this kind of a reaction but the Mandalorian felt like his whole body was vibrating. 

He never realized how _small_ your hands were compared to his. 

He never realized how much he _wanted_ you, how much he _needed_ you. How you were always there in the Crest when he came home. The Child was taken care of, the ship hadn’t caught fire - everything was in tip-top shape. You took care of everything when he left.

You didn’t even realize how much you took care of him. Always checking on him - never pressuring him or hovering too close, but always leaving meal portions where he could easily find them and save to eat later. You left bacta-kits in the hull of the ship, right next to the hatch, in case he needed medical support. You never pushed him about his religion or his beskar. You never even asked. 

But you asked about _him_.

Without fail, you asked if he was okay as soon as he entered hyperspace, once they were settled into the Crest after a bounty had been secured. 

It was one of the only times you spoke to him - not requested or reported - no, you _asked_ him if he was okay.

It meant the whole galaxy to him (you meant the whole galaxy to him, you and the child were everything he had left, he would let the galaxy burn to keep you two safe, he would burn a thousand galaxies to see you smile, see you happy, look at him like you needed him all the time, to need him like he needs you, to need him like he needed you, he _needed_ you).

What did he have left? Who stayed after a few months - bounty hunting with a Mandalorian was far more dangerous occupation than farming on your Outer Rim planet had been. He didn’t expect you to stay for as long as you had. 

He wouldn’t know what he would do without you, now. 

When you looked at him, he stumbled over his breath. He flexed his hand. Even through his leather glove, he felt your hand tremble. 

He reached for your pinky with his own, wrapping his larger digit around yours. 

Your lips parted, a little gasp escaping you. The shade of your cheeks reddened, and you felt your eyes go wide. You had wanted him to do something - to do _anything_ , really - but you hadn’t expected it. You could stop the soft smile creeping onto your face. 

The Mandalorian felt greedy. He wrapped another finger around yours, then another -

You finished the job, wrapping what remaining fingers you had left around his. 

Your hand fit so perfectly in the Mandalorian’s, your fingers clutching at his own. His heart swelled, his whole face felt like it was burning off of his bones, even his ears felt the flames. 

Not that he would have it any other way. 

You pressed your lips together. You missed him - you always missed him, but this time - 

This time, he didn’t contact you over the comlink about the quarry. If it took longer than a few days, he would tell you. A simple message, always saying to stay safe and to stay in the Razor Crest. Always saying that he would be back. 

This time, for two weeks, you hoped you wouldn’t wake up to local reports of a Mandalorian bounty hunter that was found dead.

“I… I didn’t think you were gonna come home, Mando,” you whispered. Your throat felt tight just thinking about how worried you were about him. Every fear and anxiety came roaring up, threatening to overwhelm you. “You - you didn’t use the comlink, a-and I thought something was… was wrong.”

He paused - hesitated. “I…I was gone longer than I wanted to be.” Two weeks longer. The quarry had a lot of friends on this planet. He slipped in between secret alleys and sewer systems, and with no one willing to fess up about his whereabouts, it took some time for the Mandalorian to find him. 

But of course he found the quarry. Of course he came home. 

“I get so worried, a-about you, I-”

You tried to swallow the lump away to no avail. 

He didn’t need you to finish the sentence. Mando understood. You hung around his mind on every hunt - every time something went wrong, every stray blaster shot he narrowly avoided, and all he could think about was how you would wait for a man never coming back. All he ever wanted to do was come home to you and the Child. 

“I’ll always come back to you.”

You could feel it - your emotions were clawing up your throat, burning your chest. You could tell him, he was right here and it would be so easy just to tell him. To just _tell_ him - 

You squeezed his fingers, and then completely let go of his hand. 

“I-”

The Mandalorian leaned in slightly, and you pressed your lips together. You didn’t know how to say this, you didn’t want to ruin this, you didn’t want - 

He reached for your hand again. Your eyes stung, but you jerk your hand away. 

“What’s wrong?” His hand gripped your arm gently. You looked upset (he hated when you were upset, he just wanted you to be okay, he could fix it, he _could_ , just tell him _what’s wrong_ ).

“I’m - Mando, I’m… I just-”

“ _Say it_ ,” Mando breathed.

“I just - stars, I just want you, Mando. I… I - I need you.”

A soft smile found its way to Mando’s cheeks, as he basked in your confession. How simple - it was devoid of embellishments, and yet Mando felt drunk off your words. You wanted him, needed him. You sounded so hurt, so worried. No one had ever been so worried over whether or not he would return. It was always just… expected of him. He would return - he was the _Mandalorian_. 

But you still looked so upset. So severe, like you had just told him you were dying. Like the whole world was going to end in a fiery explosion, instead of a soft declaration of your affection (for him, for him, _for him_ ). 

He brushed your hair away from your cheeks. His touch was so light - you barely felt where his gloves grazed your face, but you could feel your cheeks burn (the white hot, the devastatingly warm and bright kind of burn that you would feel for days after the initial injury, he always did this to you, made you burn, Maker, he always made you feel like you were on fucking _fire_ , you wished you could breathe, just _breathe_ ).

You managed a quick breath when the Mandalorian cradled your face in his hands. He rubbed his thumb across your cheeks for a moment before he tipped his head forward and-

Contact. 

His helmet rested against your forehead. You gazed into his visor, only seeing your own eyes in its reflection. Mando breathes, too soft for the vocal modulator to pick up on, but loud enough that you could absolutely hear. Soft and quick, in and out. Like he was just as shocked to be this close as you were.

After a moment, you heard a soft, “Oh,” and the Mandalorian cleared his throat. 

“We- we’re, uh… this is- I’m kissing you, by the way,” he stuttered. He nuzzled your forehead with his, almost to emphasize his point. 

In truth, Mando had never shared a kiss like this with anyone. Affection was not something he was familiar with - he was perfectly content with quick encounters, or even simple comradery. 

But to share something with you - so tender and sweet, so Mandalorian with you (a part of his culture, a part of _him_ ) - it was such uncharted territory. It almost made him nervous. What if you wanted more (he was willing to give everything he had, everything he could ever gain was for you, but what if it wasn’t enough, what if it wasn’t enough)? What if you didn’t want him (what if _he_ wasn’t enough for you)? 

“Wait, what?” Your voice sounded giddy and high, and whatever nerves Mando felt, they were gone - evaporated. 

“It’s a kiss.” He pulled his helmet away for a moment, only to gently tap your forehead again. “A Keldabe kiss. It’s- it’s how mandalorians kiss.”

Your nails scraped along his chest plate as you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his helmet. His hands lowered to your waist, bringing your body closer to his. A soft hum rumbled from the back of his throat. 

You rested his forehead against his again. “That’s, um, how we kiss outside of the, uh, outside of your clan.”

“Right.” His smile seeped through his voice. 

“Just in case, you know, you wanted to know.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, moving even closer to him. The side of his helmet rested against your cheek. 

You glanced up at the stars. A comfortable silence settled as you enjoyed being held by your Mandalorian. 

“I didn’t say it, did I?” 

You kissed the cheek of his helmet. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to - I know, Mando.”

He grunted. His arm shifted - one wrapping around your back, one reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. You were being completely held - completely shielded, completely protected by him. You’ve never felt this close to anyone - you’ve never felt more…

_More_.

More alive, more wanted, more safe. Mando, in a few actions, and in even fewer words, has rendered you completely and utterly his. 

Not that you’d have it any other way. 

“I need you, too,” he mumbled. “And I’ll never stop wanting you - _ner ka’rta_.”

His fingers scraped against your scalp, and you swear the stars have never looked more beautiful.


End file.
